We're having a big snowstorm–"big" for people in the South–and I smell a gas leak. So the gas co. very dramatically told me to EVACUATE the house and wait for them to come save me, but I've smelled this gas leak over by my stove before, and it's SNOWY out there. I.am.sure.
So I'm blogging to you and waiting to blow up. If this ends suddenly you'll know.
Am expecting warning-filled email from my father as soon as he reads this.
So, yeah. It snowed.
Yes, folks, THIS has caused a two-hour delay of work, and I promise you school is closed, although I don't know for a fact. But having lived with schoolteacher Marvin and his home-all-the-time-in-winter self, I feel confident. Many children watching The Price is Right today. Is that what people still do on a snow day?
They had been PREDICTING and WARNING us all day, but I had a hair appointment yesterday after work, and Las Vegas kept calling me to star in their Ludwig van Beethoven/General Custer/Albert Einstein tribute show, so no three-to-seven-inches-of-precipitation was stopping ME from fixing this mess. Sadly, my hairdresser is in another town, and why can't anything ever be easy?
"Ooo, it's starting to snow!" she said as she snipped. They were big white beautiful flakes. Less than an hour later, as I paid, I noticed everything was already covered. "Dang!" I said, kind of worrying a little.
I had plans to see an old friend of mine, who lives in the town where I now get my hair cut. We'd worked together and had been in a book club and are both obsessed with Mad Men, and we were excited to reunite. Our plan was to meet at Starbucks, because we were in a rollicking town that wasn't gonna have much else open past 8:00. But when we got there?
Effing Starbucks. Closed. BECAUSE OF THE STORM! THE HORRID STORM!
So we had decaf at his apartment, and on the drive over I called Ned to tell him about the change in plans, because somehow announcing ahead of time that I was partayying with my decaf at some guy's apartment seemed less unseemly than telling him after.
"This snow is great," said Ned. "I wish you were here." So who, like an idiot, schlepped over to Ned's after her coffee, risking life and limb just so she could watch Ned have a snow beer? ("Snow beer is the best kind of beer," Ned announced.) Oh my GOD, that drive was scary. The snow was coming at me so big-ly and dramatically that after awhile it seemed like giant spiders or fireworks were crashing at my car. Because giant spiders and fireworks hang out together a lot.
There were NEWS CREWS out reporting on THE BIG STORM, and many snow beer bars were closed, a thing that stuck in my craw. This snow's a night in APRIL in Michigan. Grow a snowy pair, people. Jesus.
Did you see where some wisenheimer said, "At least Lance Armstrong had the ball to tell the truth"? Bah!
Anyway. After we sat on the second story of the one bar that was open, and watched the snow fall, I made it home okay, and the dogs couldn't care less about the whole damn thing. I thought maybe they'd lift it with their snouts and prance around, but mostly they're all, "we cowld, mom. to let in now."
But none of this is why I've gathered you all here today. If you read me yesterday, and why didn't you, DICK, I told you that Ned recently showed me a picture of him and his prom date in 1982, and I told him I had a picture of ME and my wedding date from that very same day. This led me to get all excited because it was a blogging opportunity, and basically I am very uninteresting.
So without further ado, because I just got my hair done yesterday, here are Ned's and my photos:
Wait, here's another one of Ned from the same day. I mean, maybe it was a totally different day and they just slipped on these outfits again. I could be wrong.
Ned thinks he looks like a muppet in these photos, which by the way kills me, but you know he's cute. Look how, you know, sixteen he is. And I know his date, they are still friends to this day, and they stand around posed like this whenever they're together, and my point is, she doesn't look that different. She really doesn't.
Okay, now me.
God, Cardinal looks six years old. Oh I used to think he was the shizzle.
Oh, thank god. The gas man is here. To take my blues away. Blow up at ya later.